Oltha an Ithilgal (To Dream by Moonlight)
by DepthsOfMySubconsciousness
Summary: Before the thousand years of peace in the Silver Millennium, the Moon Kingdom was devastated by a great and dark power seeking the Legendary Silver Crystal. Selene, the young goddess of the moon, fled the horrors by escaping through barriers of space and time to Arda. Her fragile heart and mind broken, she must gather her strength to protect her loved ones and all of Middle Earth.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER ONE

As he crouched silently in the deep green underbrush, he slowly reached his arm up behind his head, grasping the feathered end of the shaft, and withdrawing it from the quiver of arrows resting on his back. He notched the arrow, fitting the string of his bow into the small groove carved into the end of the wooden shaft. He cautiously raised his bow, the arrow pointing directly at his target. The deer with a proud rack of antlers upon his head and a snow-white coat that gleamed and shone in the shadows lowered his head to nip at the long untamed grass growing on the forest floor, unsuspecting of the nearby threat. Ancient oak trees held their branches high above, their thick canopies hiding the clear blue skies and the mid-day sun from view. In places the sunlight slipped through the thick growth of leaves and branches to play upon the smaller plants and the thick coating of dried leaves from countless autumns blanketing the forest floor. The silent hunter dressed in light shades of green and brown slowly pulled back the end of the arrow pinched between his fingers, pulling the string taut with it. The wooden bow held in his left hand trembled with the tension, almost as if it restlessly anticipated its release. He pulled back the already strained string another inch as he prepared to release the arrow to swiftly meet its target.

Suddenly, a sensation of powerful magick swept over him in waves as he cried out in surprise, accidentally releasing the arrow. It struck the trunk of an oak tree, the sound of its contact reverberating throughout the peaceful woods. The white stag's head shot up, searching for the source of the sound. Its bright eyes flashed and its nostrils flared, before it turned and leaped away into the forest, its white tail held high. As fast as the feeling of that incredibly strong power had come, it was gone.

_What was __that__? _The startled hunter thought to himself as he rose from the crouched position to turn and swiftly run silently and effortlessly through the woods in the direction of the source of the power he had sensed. He ran lightly, sprinting over fallen trees and thick underbrush, slowing as he drew near. He cautiously crept up behind an especially large evergreen, to peek between its downward sloping branches. A shaft of light fell from above the green canopy to play on a form lying on the forest floor. The form huddled on the ground was shrouded in silver that glimmered like fine gems caught in the sunlight, and softly shone in the shadows. The young elf sensed no malice or ill will from the silver figure, and his curiosity overwhelmed his better judgement, he stepped from behind the tree to move closer, his blue eyes studying the strange sight before him. He slowly reached out with his right hand, the other hand clutching his bow tightly at his side. He was just about to touch the strange silver substance, feeling the gentle warmth that it gave off, when a soft moan escaped from the silver figure, the sound barely escaping the notice of his sensitive ears. He quickly snatched back his hand and leaped back, climbing swiftly up the trunk of the nearest tree to rest on an overhanging branch, while still keeping watch. The silver form shook slightly as it coughed, the scent of fresh blood registering in his mind. A single trembling hand extended from the silver cloaking the form, the hand and wrist small and delicate, the fingers long and graceful-looking. The flawless white skin softly glowing like an immortal's was marred by deep cuts red with blood and large blue and purple bruises. Thick blood clung stickily to fingertips and underneath long oval-shaped nails. The hand grasped an object lying hidden in the leaves, a long silver chain escaping the delicate fingers to brush against the ground. Foreign words gently chanted reached his ears as the small hand tightened its grip on the object, and a strange white light shone brightly from between the fingers. An audible gasp filled with pain was released, as before his eyes the deep slashes closed and the ugly bruises staining the skin faded, leaving only the deep redness of blood behind as evidence of the injuries. The silver figure then collapsed with a moan.

The elf sat perched on the oak branch, frozen with shock for a moment, before he gathered his resolve (and newly strengthened curiosity), and leaped from the tree to land beside the fallen silver figure. As he reached out his hand towards the form for the second time, he realized that the silver substance that he had first mistaken for fabric, perhaps of a cloak, was actually hair! Long tresses of silver in gentle waves that glimmered and shone brilliantly curtained the figure completely, and pooled on the forest floor. Hair that was warm to the touch and as soft as fine silk he realized, as he gently pressed his palm against the form. A soft perfume of vanilla and jasmine intermingled with the metallic scent of fresh blood enveloped his senses, as he breathed in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent. He sat back on his heels as he gently rolled the form towards him. The silver masses of hair slipped off the figure, its length piling next to him, revealing a face that made his breath catch in his throat and his heartbeat quicken. He stared, his eyes wide in wonder. The skin of her heart-shaped face was soft and dewy-looking, the whiteness of it contrasting beautifully against the long black eyelashes of her closed lids, curling gently against her high cheekbones. Her small pink rosebud mouth was full and soft-looking, slightly open to reveal white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue. Her wide forehead and cheekbones gently tapered down to a small, delicately pointed chin. Slim silver eyebrows curved gently high above her closed eyes. On her brow was a softly glowing golden crescent moon, the horns pointing upwards to her head of soft silver hair. Silver bangs framed her fair face, curling softly against her brow. A long, slim neck widened into soft, round shoulders, lengthening into smooth arms, and ending in small, delicate hands and fingers. Her chest swelled fully, covered by intricate embroidery done in golden thread. The loose white fabric of her dress clung softly to her gentle feminine curves. The white dress consisted of several layers of very fine, slightly translucent fabric that glowed gently in the shadows and shone crisply where the light touched it. On her wrist was a string of small round white pearls, and she wore a fine chain circlet of silver links round her head. Her fine clothes were dirtied and torn, and stained darkly with blood. Her small feet were bare; the bottoms marred by dried mud and a strange grey powder. The only sign of her miraculously healed injuries was the blood on her skin and clothes, only now beginning to dry and harden. Her exquisite silver hair hung loose in his lap before pooling in a mass on the forest floor. He was amazed at its length and silver colour, unheard of even for the immortal elves, widely known for their beauty and grace. As his blue eyes drank in her beauty, he noticed a thin strand of shimmering silver swept across her face and clinging to her soft pink lips. Unable to resist, he swept it away gently with his fingertips, tucking the strand behind her ear adorned with a double pearl drop earring. He stared in disbelief at her ears. She had the round ears of Men, not the delicately pointed tips of his own people that he expected.

_Who...what are you? _His shocked mind numbly exclaimed in dismay.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER TWO

She ran swiftly through the grey dust dunes, gasping for air, each breath tearing its way painfully through her chest. She grasped her side tightly; shooting pains making her gasp and cry out. Her eyes stung sharply from the harsh, dry wind, tears escaping from the corners of her eyes to draw wet paths down her face. As she neared the top of the last rise, her toes caught on a rock hidden in the dust, her ankle twisting and buckling under her weight. She fell forward on her knees, her arms outstretched to catch herself, as she cried out in pain and fear. Sensing the terror and deep suffering before her, rushing over her in waves, each one hitting harder than the last, she slowly raised her head, her mouth dry with dread. Her eyes widened in horror at the sight before her, and a desperate cry was torn violently from her throat, her mind numb with shock, and a heavy weight upon her heart.

Her horrified screams pierced the night air, as he bolted from the carven wood chair set outside her door, sending it crashing to the stone floor. He unlatched the wooden door and stepped inside the dark room. Silver moonlight poured in from the window, lighting the figure on the bed. She sat bolt upright, her long, lustrous waves fanning out on the white linens. She clasped the fabric on the chest of her ivory nightgown tightly, her knuckles white with the strength of her grasp. She continued to scream her heart-wrenching sobs, as tears freely fell from her wide, unseeing silver-blue eyes filled with terror and deep sorrow. He rushed to her side, kneeling on the bed beside her, and took her smooth shoulders in his hands, shaking her gently.

"Awake my lady! It is but a dream!" He cried out in Elvish.

Her haunted eyes snapped out of their horrified trance and shifted to look into his own. Her large, expressive eyes gazed into him, mesmerizing him with their intense colour, drowning in their depths. He swallowed nervously, his heart skipping a beat at the beauty of her, and the pleading look in her eyes. She simply gazed deep into his eyes, her silver-blue eyes still reflecting on the terrors of her dream, as silent tears sprung from her eyes, soaking her skin and the front of the nightgown.

He pulled her to him, pressing the side of her face against his warm, firm chest, and wrapping his strong arms around her to hold her protectively. His chest swelled with the spreading warmth of his heart, as he gently wiped the tears from her milky-white cheeks with his fingertips. She closed her eyes tightly, a quiet sob escaping her small mouth as she snaked her slender arms around his neck. He drew in a deep breath shakily at her touch, her scent filling him and enveloping him completely. He gently stroked her sterling silver mane reassuringly, as he began to sing softly, his beautiful voice calming her terrified mind and soothing her ravaged soul. She tightened her hold on him, snuggling closer to press herself against him, as her heartbeat gradually slowed. When her breathing was even and soft and her tense body relaxed, her arms loosening their hold from around his neck, he slowly lowered her sleeping form to the bed, releasing her from his tender embrace. A slight frown creased her fair brow and she whimpered in her sleep, unconsciously tightening her hold on him. He gazed down at her in slight confusion, studying her, the moonlight lighting her urethral face with its silver beams. Her face for the moment was absent of fear and worry, her skin smooth, and her features appearing relaxed and content. He lay back into the soft white sheets warm from her body, and drew her close to his side, wrapping his arms around her, her head fitting perfectly into the groove joining his chest and shoulder. He took one last look at the woman in his arms, before he sighed in contentment and longing, as he lay watching over her sleep, his smoky blue eyes gazing beyond the darkness into elvish dreams.

She awakened gradually, her mind still fuzzy from sleep, in a sensation of warmth and security. A musky scent of earth and skin warmed in the sun enveloped her. The comforting feeling surrounded her, healing her shattered soul and mind. A sense of belonging and content filled her heart as her long black eyelashes fluttered against her light cheekbones, her eyes languidly opening to reveal sky blue eyes flecked with glimmering silver. Her hand rested on the soft green-brown fabric of a tunic and strong arms golden from the sun wrapped around her, holding her close. Her gaze wandered, tilting her head slightly upwards, to find to her surprise dark grey-blue eyes studying her. Her clear cheeks flushed prettily; slightly bashful at the close proximity of him. She was lost in their grey-blue depths, the colour of steel or dark storm clouds. Her pink mouth opened slightly in wonder as she felt a soothing heat spread over her body. She pulled her sight away from his entrancing eyes with difficulty, to study the rest of him. His eyes were framed by thick, straight dark brows. His blonde hair bleached by the sun was swept off his smooth, high forehead. His straight flaxen hair intermingled with her own bright wavy tresses lying on the crisp white sheets. His nose was straight and well-formed, and beneath it, his lips were slightly pink and full, the corners upturned in the hint of a smile as he observed her. His cheekbones were high and his jaw strong and defined. Strands of pale hair at each temple were braided and tucked behind his perfectly formed ears that ended in a delicate point. She drew in a breath in awe, as she reached forward with her small hand to trace the shape of his ear. He shivered involuntarily, a pleasurable sensation tickling his ears and shooting down his spine. She looked down at his body pressed closely against hers, dressed in a pale green-brown tunic held with a leather belt at his waist, the hem reaching to his upper thighs. His firm, muscled legs were covered in a form-fitting brown fabric that reached to his ankles, his feet left bare. She removed her gentle fingers from his ear to hesitantly grasp the fabric of the tunic experimentally between her fingers, testing the feel of it. Her eyes widened slightly at the strange sensation of the thick, slightly rough fabric. Her hand wandered to his leather belt, exploring the metal buckle and the small holes punched through the material. Her curiousity satisfied, she raised her bright eyes to regard his fair face again.

He valiantly tried to suppress the growing, spreading heat in his loins at her light, teasing touches. As she raised her head to lock gazes with him again, he drew in a breath sharply at the look in her eyes. Her cerulean eyes shimmering with hints of silver betrayed no coyness or flirtatious thoughts. Her large eyes held only innocence and curiousity, and a deep sorrow hidden in their blue depths. He inwardly groaned, his mind realizing that she had no thought of the effect she was having on him.

He cleared his throat audibly. "Good morning, my lady. May I ask your name?" He spoke to her in Elvish softly, being careful not to startle her.

She simply stared back at him without comprehension, or even a sign that she had heard him.

Remembering her round ears, he tried again in the Common tongue. "My lady. I am Legolas of Mirkwood. May I ask for your name?" He spoke to her gently.

Still she lay silent, not responding. His brow creased in confusion, considering the mysterious woman. _Although her stunning beauty and grace suggests an elven heritage, I personally have never seen or heard of an elleth with endless locks of silver and a curious golden crescent marking on her fair brow. Her strange appearance is already puzzling enough without consideration to her round ears, instead of the pointed tips of my people that I would have expected. Even though her round ears would have normally have classified her as the race of Men, her breathtaking appearance far outshines that of any mortal, and I admit, even most elven ladies. And Men are known to have shades of black, brown, blonde or red hair, not the brilliant silver tresses that adorn this lady! Silver hair is unheard of even for Elves, let alone for Men! And that golden crescent marking on her brow! That is definitely unheard of, a natural marking of gold upon skin. This lady is a strange mystery that falls beyond my knowledge and reasoning..._

He came out of his deep thoughts to find her radiant face inches from his own, her sweet, hot breath on his lips. Her large blue-silver orbs gazed into his darker ones, as her eyes instantly brightened and her delicate mouth broke into a sweet smile, the brightness of which dazzled him. He blushed slightly in embarrassment, realizing the softness and warmth of her shapely body pressed up along the length of him. He rose gracefully from the bed and offered the lady his hand. She placed her smaller hand in his own, as she moved to stand before him. Her lustrous hair slipped off the bed, the softly curling ends reaching to her slim, white ankles hidden by the long white sleeping gown. He took her in, amazed by the length of her silky locks. Her blue eyes suddenly widened as she felt around her neck with her free hand, searching for something obviously important to her. She quickly turned, to frantically search amongst the bed linens in panic. Realization dawned on him, at what she must be searching for. He turned to the carven wood dresser set up against the smooth stone wall, with handles of wrought mithril, pulling a small drawer open to reveal a smooth, perfectly round, white crystal, that shone with hints of silver tones in its depths. It was linked to a long, fine silver chain. He turned to find her on her hands and knees, searching under the bed for her precious possession. At the sound of his step, she turned to look at him, rising from the stone floor blanketed with luxurious furs. As her sight dropped from his face to the object in his hands, her eyes instantly brightened in relief and joy, her full pink mouth smiling sweetly. He stepped behind her, lifting her silky tresses to link the silver chain around her neck. He watched her, amused, as she grasped the silver crystal protectively, which reached on its length of silver chain to just below her breast.

"My lady?" He tried again in the Common Speech.

She turned to smile gratefully at him, without response. _A mysterious lady indeed... _He motioned towards a carved wood chair before the dresser, on which a pale lavender dress was draped. He also showed her to the bath in the adjoining room. She nodded, understanding, as he left the room, soundlessly pulling the wooden door shut behind him.

When she emerged from the room much later, his appraising eyes took her in. Her freshly scrubbed skin was slightly pink and glowing, her natural scent of vanilla and jasmine making his head swim. Her clean silver tresses shone more brilliantly and clearly than before, shimmering in the sunlight entering through the large window at the end of the hall. Her hair was divided neatly into two sections down the middle of her head, and then swept up into high buns on either side of her head, with a thick section of wavy silver escaping from each bun, to reach to her knees, the ends softly curling. Her soft fringe of curling silver bangs rested against her brow, framing the golden crescent sigil. He studied her bizarre hairstyle with surprise, finally deciding that it suited the lady perfectly. The round buns resting high on her head gave her the adorable appearance of having the ears of a hare. The long silver streams of hair escaping the buns, and her exposed long, slim white neck lent her an elegant and refined air. Curling tendrils at her temples had slipped out of the buns to frame her face, and hid the round tips of her ears, for all appearances now an elven lady. She still wore her double pearl drop earrings and her small pearl bracelet on her right wrist. The silver crystal on the thin chain hung round her neck and reached to just below her bust. The colour of the light lavender dress complemented her silver locks and intense blue eyes perfectly. The gown had a modest square neckline with form-fitting long sleeves that flared out at the elbow, the longest point reaching to her knees. The empire waist tucked snugly under her bust, and the rest of the floor-length dress draped over her lithe body loosely, the light fabric billowing from the slight breeze in the corridor. She walked barefoot, her small toes peeking from beneath the dress as she walked, having ignored the lavender silk slipper-shoes left for her on the chair with the dress.

He offered her his arm, and her face brightened as she understood, linking her slim arm through his. He led her down a smooth arched passageway carved into the grey rock, sloping slightly downwards into underground caverns. The lit torches hung along both sides of the bright tunnel made her pearly silver tresses flash and shimmer in the gold-red light. He watched her silently out of the corner of his eye as she tread softly at his side, marvelling at her beauty. As they walked down the stone tunnel, ignoring the many intersecting passages joining the hallway, they were passed by many elven people that first bowed or nodded, acknowledging their prince, then scrupulously observed the strange and mysterious lady on his arm. She openly stared at them all curiously, her cerulean eyes flecked with silver wide, and her full pink mouth drawn into a smile, charming everyone that looked upon her. Finally they reached a wide entranceway, flanked on either side by smooth stone pillars with intricate interwoven designs carved into them. He paused for a moment with her in the doorway, before speaking quietly at her ear.

"Before us is the elven king's throne room, my father Thranduil, King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood. Do not be frightened, as I will be close by you at all times, my lady. My father will know what action should be taken regarding your plight."

Although not understanding his words, she clearly understood the meaning of the seriousness of his tone and his hushed voice. She straightened immediately, standing tall and holding her head high and proud, the aura of a great queen coming over her. He observed this change with wonder and sense of the truth of the mysterious woman. Then they stepped over the threshold and into the large room. The great hall had a vaulted ceiling high above their heads and pillars hewn of stone. Torches were fastened to the walls and pillars, giving off a red-gold light. The melodic singing and voices of elves filled the air, echoing softly. Her silver-blue eyes took in the scene greedily, in their curiousity and awe. A proud man with long golden-blonde hair, and a wreath of berries and red leaves upon his head, sat on a carved wood throne and holding a large oak staff in his hand. As she studied him, she was drawn to his familiar dark, stormy grey-blue eyes. As they approached the throne, the elven king turned from his hushed discussion with a travel-worn elf, to study his son, his dark eyes grim and serious.

"Legolas, my son. How went your hunt?" He questioned, his booming voice filling the great hall with its strength.

"I was not successful in my hunt for the white hart, my lord. However, my lady here," he replied, inclining his head towards the woman standing beside him, "has proven to be a far more valuable find."

The elven king turned his head to study the woman on his son's arm with interest, noting her unusually long and silver-tinted tresses and the golden crescent mark upon her fair brow.

"And what is the fair lady's name?" He asked her in a slightly gentler tone, his voice still full of its strength and vitality.

Almost reluctantly, the king looked from the entrancing maiden to his son as Legolas spoke. "Unfortunately, the lady has not spoken a word since I have found her injured and unconscious in the forest. She does not seem to understand a word of either Silvan Elvish or the Common Speech, and will not answer. I see that you have taken note of her unusual appearance. She has the beauty and grace of an elven lady, though her silver hair and the golden marking on her brow is unheard of. At night she is troubled by dreams from which she wakes in great fear and sorrow." Legolas paused, as he felt all eyes in the throne room upon him. "Most puzzling of all, my lord, is that she has not the pointed ears of our kindred, but instead the round ears of Men."

All the merry singing, talking and drinking had halted at the fascinating tale told by their prince, the heavy silence filling the room, as they turned their eyes upon the mysterious maiden standing regally at his side. At his last words, they all stared at her, disbelieving. Feeling their sharp, inquisitive eyes upon her, she began to nervously play with her silver locks, subsequently tucking loose strands that had fallen from her buns behind her ears, revealing their smooth, round tips for all to see. The elven king studied the strange woman thoroughly with his searching dark grey-blue eyes, and coming to a decision, he spoke, his voice loud and reverberating through the heavy silence.

"Step forward, my lady." He spoke to her in Elvish.

His brow creased in annoyance as she neither complied nor responded to his summons.

He spoke again, in the Common tongue, "Step forward, my lady."

Still no answer from the fascinating and attractive woman standing tall before him. Seeing that either she did not understand either language, or that she was being insolent and refused to answer to him, he ignored her, questioning Legolas on her discovery, and everything he had observed about the mysterious lady. He gazed upon her once more, looking into her large blue eyes, reading the expression in them, searching for answers to his questions. Her gaze did not falter, as she withstood his scrutiny with strength and refinedness. Seemingly satisfied with what he had found, the elven king turned to Legolas, motioning him closer.

He spoke softly under his breath into Legolas' ear, "I have received word from Lord Elrond. He bids me to come, or to send a proper representative of the kingdom of Northern Mirkwood, for an important council being held in Imladris in nearly a moon from now. He requested that the upmost haste and secrecy is taken in this matter. I have chosen you, my son, to attend this council in Imladris in my absence. Also bring to Lord Elrond tidings of Smeagol's escape. This strange lady shall accompany you, to seek Lord Elrond's wisdom in her plight."


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER THREE

Sheer cliffs of grey rock rose high above on either side, waterfalls of white foam and mist piercing their sides. Above, to the very edge of the rocky precipice, grew tall evergreens, their sharp tips straining to reach the bright sky. She leaned forward to the side, over the horse's neck, to look below the narrow path curving along the rock wall, to the green and gold canyon far below. Her inquisitive eyes widened as they studied the breathtaking sight below her. Trees of red, green and gold crowded thickly on the floor of the valley. The light melodies of birds filled the air, and in the distance, she spied proud purple-grey mountains, their distant tips white with snow. Her perceptive eyes glimpsed fair houses of white and grey, with high arches, pillars, and balconies overlooking the vale, built into the sides of the steep cliffs, and surrounded by the trees and other thriving plant life. The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back into the saddle, as she leaned a little too far out in her rapt fascination. She turned to smile radiantly at her riding companion, his grey-blue eyes studying her, sparkling with amusement. She leaned back against him, pulling his left arm closer around her, the back of her head resting on his solid chest, tilting it back to peek up at him through her bangs. She sighed, snuggling closer, and then turned her gaze to the river valley.

They galloped through an entryway between high stone doors opened wide, carved with vine-like lines and patterns. With his free right hand, Legolas pulled back on the leather reins to slow his horse, his left arm still securely holding the silver maiden. His right hand grasping the back of the saddle, he swung himself over the side of the horse, landing nimbly on the ground. He turned to the lady still in the saddle, picking her up effortlessly by the waist with both hands, and setting her down lightly beside him, reluctantly removing his hands from her familiar warmth. He turned away from her, lifting his head high to behold the harmonious beauty and peace of Rivendell. A soft golden light filled the valley, stray leaves dancing gracefully in the fresh, cool breeze before gently fluttering to rest on the ground. Trees towered overhead throughout the vale, their green leaves changing to shades of gold and red from the autumn frosts. He observed the elegant architecture of the elves co-existing peacefully with the thriving plant and wildlife, in soft, muted shades of grey and ivory, their high roofs and steeples rising amongst the treetops. The fair laughter of elves rung crispy like silver bells in the fresh, clean air, accompanied by the high notes and warbles of birds hidden in the trees. At one end of the vale, a large white waterfall rushing out from between the restraining rock cliffs formed a wide, shallow river that meandered throughout the valley, filling the land with sounds of its trickling, flowing waters. He offered the lady his arm, her eyes sparkling with joy and delight at the beauty and tranquility surrounding her. They strolled in the direction of the house of Lord Elrond, taking time to enjoy the sights of the canyon, healing their tired bodies and minds from their long and pressing journey.

They stood before Lord Elrond on his open balcony, the flat stone walls grey, and smooth slate tiles on the floor. Carven wood beams and railings with detailed interwoven patterns framed the open spaces of the balcony. Lord Elrond stood tall, dressed in a floor-length tunic with long sleeves in soft pale gold tones, and a long pale green velvet cloak, covering his strong shoulders and back. His dark hair was swept off his high forehead, arranged in intricate braids and knots, held in place with a single gold clip. Two ebony strands of hair at his temples were tied and hung in front of his elvish ears. His stone grey eyes beneath thick, arched brows held the wisdom of many years, and troubled thoughts of the oncoming darkness.

Lord Elrond studied the unusual woman standing silently before him. Her long silver hair was swept up into her rare style with the round buns high on her head, and the thick, wavy sections slipping out of the buns, reaching down to her knees. Her curling bangs framed the golden crescent sigil on her brow, and her silver-blue eyes still shone from their delight at her fascinating and unfamiliar surroundings. Her full pink lips were smiling charmingly in joy. She wore a pale silver-blue off-the-shoulder dress, thin silk straps wrapping over her exposed shoulders. The first layer of the dress was translucent silver, and as light as air. The second layer showing through the silver was a pale blue silk. The sleeves were long and form-fitting, the sleeves ending at her wrists, except where the fabric lengthened into a point covering the top of her hand, and joining at her middle finger. She wore her double pearl drop earrings, and her silver crystal hung on its fine silver chain round her neck. She wore matching pale blue silk slippers on her delicate feet. Her strange silver-blue eyes spoke to him of wisdom and an old soul, but also a loving, gentle spirit, and a great deal of pain and suffering in their depths.

His careful and thorough scrutiny complete, Lord Elrond spoke. "She is not of elven-kind. Her ears alone are proof enough of that. However, she is also not of the race of Men, as her strange appearance would support. Considering her foreign traits, and a complete lack of understanding of any Elvish language or the Common Speech… There is a complete lack of records or knowledge known to me, on a race fitting her description… All these points to support the conclusion that she is not of Elves, Men, Dwarves or Halflings; she is not a creature known to Middle Earth. She is something entirely different, a race, for now, completely unknown and unheard of. All we can do for the time being is to teach her to speak our languages in the hopes that she will in time reveal her secrets and mysteries to us. I also sense a deep sadness and disturbance in her. I believe it would be in her best interest to stay in Imladris for the time being, to rest and repair her heart and mind."

Legolas listened to Lord Elrond's counsel, the lady in question at his side. He wore a long, pale green tunic reaching his upper thighs over a crisp white shirt. His grey-toned leggings were tucked into black boots reaching to his knees. Around his waist he wore a black leather belt with a gold buckle, and bands of brown leather crossed his chest, holding his quiver of arrows and his long, curved wooden bow strapped to his back. A brown-grey velvet cloak covered his shoulders, split open in the back to admit his quiver and bow.

Aside to Legolas, Lord Elrond spoke under his breath: "Tomorrow will be the council. It will be secret, and matters of great importance will be discussed; therefore the lady is not invited to attend. The meeting will be announced by bell. Take tonight to relax and recuperate from your tiring journey."

He turned to light long white candlesticks sitting in an iron-wrought stand, as Legolas and the lady soundlessly left his study.

Legolas lay in bed, staring blankly at the white painted ceiling, his mind elsewhere, dreaming of soft silver hair, laughing silver-blue eyes, and a soft, warm body sleeping close to him in the night. At the nearly indistinguishable sound of a door softly closing outside his room, he rose to hastily pull on his leggings and boots, and throw on his green tunic over the long white shirt he had been sleeping in. He crept soundlessly out of his room and to the adjoining balcony.

She stood with her back to him, in her white sleeping gown, her tiny pale hands resting lightly on the railing, and her head tilted upwards to gaze upon the full moon hanging low in the night sky dotted with twinkling, shining white stars, distant and cold-looking compared to the great glowing orb beside them. Her hair was unbound, falling to her ankles in soft waves that gleamed gently in the moonlight. She stood barefoot on the cold stone balcony, no cloak to cover her bare, milky-white arms, paying no heed to the cold autumn wind penetrating easily through the thin fabric of her nightgown to chill her skin. He tread softly to stand beside her, viewing the full moon with her.

With the sound of crickets filling the night air, and the dark heavens high above, he turned to her. He was surprised to find in her eyes a deep sadness and longing, as she continued to gaze forlornly at the full moon. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, before a lone tear traced its wet path down her cheek. He moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Her body stiffened for a moment, only now realizing his presence, before softening in his arms, as she squeezed her eyes shut, more tears escaping to wet her smooth cheeks.

He tightened his hold on her, subconsciously trying to protect her from the sorrow that haunted her mind. He raised his hand before her at chest-level, his palm held open and upwards. He waited a moment, as the moonbeams reacted with his elvish blood, the light from the full moon bursting into silver and white wisps that lazily traced delicate designs in the air above his palm. As the moonlight played in the palm of his hand, she watched mesmerized, her sorrow forgotten for the moment. She glanced up at him quickly, his heart warming at her sight of her, her cerulean eyes wide and bright with joy and wonder for the moondance. Her eyes were still wet from the tears they held, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and her lips curved upwards into a contagious smile, making him break out in a happy grin of his own. She turned to watch the silver-white moonbeams dancing in his palm, hesitantly reaching out to touch the magical light with her fingertips. Astonished, he stepped back, as the moonlight dance leapt from his palm to shoot up her finger like a white-hot spark, to disappear for a moment, before streaming around her beaming face and then streaking down the length of her silver tresses to her feet, to spiral upwards and around her in a gentle funnel. She spun around in circles with her arms thrown out, as her light and musical laughter filled the night air, the moondance surrounding her. The moonbeams became more excited at her joy and laughter, and spun its silver-white light around her, showing off sparks of light and stunning displays of detailed designs tracing in the air all around her. Finally, her spinning slowed as she stopped to turn to the edge of the balcony once again, reaching a slim, graceful arm to the moon, sighing as the moonbeams, sensing their mistress' change of mood, dissipated into a light silver mist to be blown away by the cold night breeze. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at the scene before him in amazement. Snapping out of his dreamy trance, he swiftly met her, enveloping her in his strong arms from behind, as she leaned her head back on his shoulder and sighed.

"My lady?"

She turned in his arms to place her hands against his chest, her body pressed flush against his. She lifted her head to regard him, her full pink mouth slightly open as she breathed in deeply, her fair cheeks flushed with colour from the cold and her dance with the moonbeams.

"Never before have I seen such an affinity with the moonbeams… The longing in your eyes as you gazed at the moon…You are truly a goddess of the moon," he murmured in her ear, his hot breath tickling her sensitive skin, sending shivers up and down the length of her arms and legs. He paused, taking her in, memorizing every detail of her urethral face bathed in silver moonlight. "Until you find your voice, my lady, I shall call you _Ithril_."

She studied his face as he spoke softly to her, not understanding, but sensing the tenderness and longing in his feelings towards her. She raised up on her tiptoes and leaned into him, puckering her full pink mouth slightly, her lips barely open, as her eyes languidly closed, her black eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks as she kissed him. He stared at her in surprise for a moment, before he tightened his hold on her, pulling her close to him and lifting her feet off the ground as he returned her loving embrace.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER FIVE

The dry, frigid air shocked her lungs painfully, as she struggled to keep running through the grey dunes, her feet sinking deeply into the soft dust. The only sound was of her sobbing, her tears sliding down her cold, frostbitten face, as her starving lungs alternately gasped for air. She fell, tumbling painfully to the ground, her head striking violently on a rock, red blood staining the uniform scenery with its vibrant colour. She was immediately up and running again, ignoring the throbbing pain at her temple, grasping her side painfully as a cramp ripped its way through her. She cried out in pain, the tears brimming full in her eyes streaming down her fair face, flushed red from the bitter wind. She struggled to keep running, exhaustion dragging her down, slowing her. _No! _A fierce cry was torn from her throat as adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving her a quick burst of energy. Her fatigued legs lengthened their torn, burning muscles as she began to sprint quickly over the dunes, feeling strangely lightheaded. As she neared the top of the last sand dune, her toe caught on a rock buried in the dust, and she fell forward. She threw out her arms to catch herself, and the force of the fall shot up her arms, leaving her nerves tingling and raw. The screaming of countless voices filled her mind, their terror and suffering rushing over her in waves, to crash violently against her perceptive mind. She cringed inwardly from the strength of their fear and pain, as she slowly raised her head to look at the scene before her, her eyes dreading to find what her heart feared.

A thick white mist clung softly to the silhouette of the lone architecture in the harsh wasteland. Its round white towers, pillars and high walls, tinged a soft glowing blue, rose high into the black sky, rivaling the distant stars in beauty. The lunar city appeared intact, not a sound traveling on the cold north wind that swept her long silver waves off her back. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she hesitantly rose to her feet, her blood pounding in her ears. She stood with her hands clenched tightly at her sides as she observed the scene before her. The screams of pain and terror that traumatized her had faded, leaving only a heavy silence, making her doubt that they had ever existed in the first place. Lifting her long, tattered skirts in one hand, she slowly approached the high stone gates guarding the entrance to the city. She passed through the entranceway unhindered, not a sign of the presence of the guards. Despite the quiet and order that met her within the stone walls, the sensation of terror and intense suffering lingered, heavy and stifling. She wandered the deserted streets, searching for someone, anyone to prove that she wasn't alone. She peeked into an open door, to find fresh dishes set out on a table in expectation for a meal. She called out expectantly, but only silence met her pleas. _I can still sense their recent presence...their laughter and happiness...and then...nothing. A void... as if they simply faded out of existence. _The feeling of dread rose within her, squeezing her frightened heart tightly, her mouth dry with her fear. She continued to wander the empty streets, knowing in her heart the pointlessness of it, nothing meeting her but silence and empty buildings, seemingly abandoned in a moment's notice. The feelings of fear and dread strengthened, threatening to bubble over and break to the surface, in a never-ending scream. _Everything has the stench of death... Death surrounds me...it fills my body, invades my mind. _She thought giddily, raising her fingertips to her temple to ease her sudden light-headedness. Her mind suddenly snapped in a silent scream. She broke into a run, faster and faster as the terror filled her very being.

The tall white doors of the palace were ajar, and she slipped between them, her bare feet pounding on the marble floors as she ran down the endless hall. The doors and passageways on either side blurred together seamlessly as she ran past, her breath coming in ragged gasps, a hysterical fear overwhelming her. She finally reached the room at the end of the hall, bursting through the doorway, the doors crashing open against the walls. She stared, her mouth agape, and her silver-blue eyes impossibly large in her white face, as the fresh, metallic scent of blood assailed her senses. She quickly bent over to retch and vomit violently. The bitter taste filling her mouth, she slowly raised her eyes, not wanting to look at the horrific sight before her, but some strange perversion to _see _taking her prisoner, forcing her to look. _So much blood..._ She felt her heart being torn in two, leaving her raw and vulnerable. She opened her mouth to scream, her vision bleeding red, as she squeezed her eyes shut to escape the sight, but the image remained, burned into her mind. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing her sorrow and loss, dragging her fingernails down her bleeding face. Her shattered soul echoed its devastation, as her screams ripped themselves violently from her throat, filling her mind with its sound, until it was all she knew.

The sleeping form lying in the bed whimpered, her brow furrowed, as she tossed and turned fitfully, her subconscious mind reliving the horrors of the past. She eventually stilled, slipping once more into troubled dreams.

Darkness surrounded her, encompassing her very being, filling her with its heavy weight. She lay suspended in shadow, perfectly content to stay as she was for all of eternity. Soft whispers pierced the silence, rising in volume and intensity. They whispered words of power to her, trying to awaken her dormant memories, as she struggled vainly against them. She covered her ears, shouting, pleading with the voices. _No! Let me stay! Don't make me go back! Please..._ She sobbed hopelessly, as she felt a sensation of soaring high in the air, the pace quickening as the whispering faded behind, leaving her with unfamiliar voices; different in sound, tone and pitch. She strained her fuzzy mind to think, to focus on the one soft voice that calmed her ravaged spirit, but as soon as she focused on it, it faded into the background, the other voices overriding it. As she struggled to find that voice again in the mess of sound, she sensed a power pulsing deep within her. As she focused on the feeling, it intensified, the darkness retreating before the brilliant, white light. She reached towards it, her fingertips touching it, a feeling of warmth, and an indescribable feeling like coming home, washing over her. _She awakens, _whispered the voices of power. She yelped in surprise, yanking her arm back as a vision came to her. An old man, dressed in grey robes and with a long grey beard reached for the light, his blue eyes wide as he fell, swallowed up by the darkness. She screamed, holding her head in her hands as images flashed through her mind.

A man, imbedded with many arrows, fighting valiantly, his bravery and good heart shining through, giving him the proud stature of a king even as he died, protecting his friends and trying to redeem himself. She cried out as she sensed the potent evil surrounding him. She felt the corruption of their dark souls, and their conflicting feelings of hate and fear for their master. But hidden deep beneath the darkness, she sensed the tiniest of sparks. A light of hope, or something within them crying out. She reached towards it, wanting to comfort them, wanting to help. The scene faded, as blood-red fire surrounded her, burning without heat, a strong wind blowing her hair back with its force. A black reptilian pupil winked into existence as she gazed into the fire, a Great Eye scrutinizing her, probing deep and itching at the edges of her mind, ripping her open. She screamed as blackness bled into her sight, sending her into a welcome oblivion.

She sat bolt upright, her body drenched in a cold sweat, the terror still filling her, horrors of the night completely forgotten, but still lingering in her confused mind. She slipped out of the hot bed, wet with her sweat, and tiptoed to the door leading to the open balcony. The sweat on her fair skin evaporated quickly in the unusually cool night, leaving her shivering pitifully in the darkness under the moonless sky. She opened the door to the room next to hers soundlessly, closing it behind her as she slipped inside, leaving her in shadows.

"Ithil?" His voice whispered in the night, the sound of it soothing her.

She rushed to him, leaping onto the bed and crushing him with her sudden weight. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her shivering form close. He raised his hand to stroke her silver tresses gleaming in the dark as she closed her eyes thankfully, a single tear sliding down her fair cheek. She pressed herself against him, not being able to get close enough to him. As he continued stroking the hair on top of her head, she reluctantly relaxed in his protective embrace, and fell into a cautious sleep. He leaned down to press his lips softly against her brow, breathing in her subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla. He sighed, looking down at her peaceful expression as she slept, his guilt heavy upon his heart. _Oh, Ithil...How do I tell you that I am leaving? How could you possibly understand? It will surely break your heart...as it will break my own... _He tightened his hold on her, realizing that he could not do anything to stop or prevent her pain. All he could do was to ensure her happiness during their last day together, and trust in Lord Elrond's promise to watch over her safety and well-being in his absence.

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will," Elrond told the group of nine standing before him, waiting at the grey stone gateway of Rivendell.

Ithil studied all the new people around her with excitement, reveling in the bright colours of the ladies' dresses and the unfamiliar faces. As she looked upon the tall man standing next to Legolas, his auburn hair bright and soft-looking in the sun, his grey eyes proud, a flash of sight brightened her mind for an instant. She inwardly recoiled at the sensation, her gaze faltering for a moment. Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of the shadow on her mind, she studied the four small people cloaked for journey with rapt fascination. She delighted in their long curls and bright eyes, their pointed ears like Legolas', their short stature, and the pure surprise of their large, hairy feet, unbound, without boots or shoes! She grinned, eyes twinkling with delight, her unquenchable curiousity brimming over. She let her eyes rest for a moment on the sweet brown pony with white markings, desiring to whisper secrets in his ear, and stroke his soft, velvety nose. She then looked upon the tall man with dark hair and kind blue eyes briefly with interest, taking note of his dark, plain travel-clothes, before her gaze slid to the man standing next to him. A shock jolted her system as she took in his grey felt pointed hat, blue eyes that shone from beneath its brim, long beard and hair of grey, long grey robes, and a wood staff in his hand. A presentiment of sorrow and fear passed over her, leaving her small hands shaking at the intensity of the feelings, her silver-blue eyes wide. Gandalf returned her gaze evenly, studying the mysterious woman, sensing a strange aura and power about her, his interest in her piqued. As quick as it had come, the strange sensation was gone without a trace. Recovering from the unexpected feelings that she had felt so strongly with every fiber of her being, she looked upon the dwarf. Her full, pink lips broke into a dazzling smile, her silver-blue eyes sparkling with delight, as she looked upon his helmet wrought with elegant ivy-like designs and patterns, his formidable-looking axe, his long, brown plaited beard, and his serious and proud attitude. Gimli glanced from Lord Elrond as he was speaking to find an enchanting lady of endless silver tresses, a fair face, sparkling silver-blue eyes and a bewitching smile, looking upon him. His lips twitched to smile, his brown eyes reflecting his feelings of amusement and mirth threatening to take over his serious persona. He looked away from the intriguing lady quickly, before he could break out into a loud, spontaneous guffaw.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose," Elrond told them. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all the Free Folk go with you."

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer," Gandalf said to Frodo.

Frodo's vivid blue eyes raised from Lord Elrond's to gaze one last time upon Rivendell, the beauty and peace of the land leaving its impression on his heart, to remember in times of great darkness and strife. He turned, walking towards the tall stone entranceway, his companions filing singularly into a line to follow behind.

Ithil became alarmed as Legolas took one long look upon her, filled with longing and regret, before he turned to follow the departing group. She watched him walk away, her feet frozen painfully to the ground, panic surging in her veins.

"Legolas!" She cried out, running to him.

He spun around in surprise at the sound of her light, musical voice that lingered in his mind long after she had spoken. He stared at her in shock, astonished that she spoken his name.

"Ithil..." he whispered in wonder.

She ran into his arms, wrapping her slim arms around his waist and pressing herself tightly against him. She looked into his grey-blue eyes pleadingly, tears brimming over in her eyes and threatening to spill over. The expression in her eyes, speaking of her fear of abandonment, tore at his heart painfully. He was overwhelmed momentarily by the feelings of sorrow and guilt washing over him.

He gently pushed her from him, his strong arms resting on her shoulders as he looked into her heartbroken eyes seriously, willing her to understand.

"Ithil…you mustn't come with me. The journey is long and perilous, not fit for a lady. I could not bear to see you come to harm." He swallowed with difficulty at that troubling thought. "You must stay here in Imladris. Lord Elrond will watch over you for me. He is an honorable man, with a daughter of his own. If I live, I will return to you, this I swear Ithil."

He bent down to kiss her tenderly on her lips, wet and salty from her tears, cupping her face gently in his palm, his other arm encircling her waist, pulling her close to him. He reluctantly pulled away from her, leaving her standing with her eyes still closed and her lips ready for his embrace. He turned away from her to walk away, unable to look in her eyes again and see her heartbroken look, his deep sorrow tearing him in two.

She opened her darkened silver-blue eyes to sadly watch him leave, understanding at least that he wished her to stay here, though that meant she would not be at his side.

A tall man with dark hair with penetrating grey eyes, radiating his strength and a pure heart, also lingered, looking upon an elven lady in purple, her demeanor sorrowful.

Sensing her sorrow and depression at being parted with her lover, Ithil turned to gaze upon the elven lady in sympathy and understanding.

The elven lady wore a fine lilac-coloured dress of silk and velvet, with long sleeves and a high collar turned down. She stood with her hands clasped tightly together in front of her, her head bowed modestly. Her fair ivory face glowed golden in the sunlight and her high cheekbones were flushed with a rosy colour. Her large sky blue eyes shimmered with the tears that they held, and her full, large red lips quivered slightly with the strength of her emotions. Her long, dark chestnut hair was swept off her smooth, high brow, revealing her delicately-pointed ears. She wore a fine mithril circlet upon her brow, encrusted with small, white crystals that sparkled and captured the sunbeams.

Ithil strode silently to the elven lady's side and gently took her hand from its tense clasp, to hold in her own small hand, squeezing it reassuringly. The elven lady turned to look to the kind lady comforting her, her lips curling upwards slightly in an attempt at a smile. Ithil returned her shaky smile with her own bright, loving expression, easing the elven lady's bitter pain. They looked from each other to watch their men leaving them behind, their hearts slowly breaking with each step, fearing that they may not return, their hearts crying out the names of their loves silently.


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER FIVE

The dry, frigid air shocked her lungs painfully, as she struggled to keep running through the grey dunes, her feet sinking deeply into the soft dust. The only sound was of her sobbing, her tears sliding down her cold, frostbitten face, as her starving lungs alternately gasped for air. She fell, tumbling painfully to the ground, her head striking violently on a rock, red blood staining the uniform scenery with its vibrant colour. She was immediately up and running again, ignoring the throbbing pain at her temple, grasping her side painfully as a cramp ripped its way through her. She cried out in pain, the tears brimming full in her eyes streaming down her fair face, flushed red from the bitter wind. She struggled to keep running, exhaustion dragging her down, slowing her. _No! _A fierce cry was torn from her throat as adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving her a quick burst of energy. Her fatigued legs lengthened their torn, burning muscles as she began to sprint quickly over the dunes, feeling strangely lightheaded. As she neared the top of the last sand dune, her toe caught on a rock buried in the dust, and she fell forward. She threw out her arms to catch herself, and the force of the fall shot up her arms, leaving her nerves tingling and raw. The screaming of countless voices filled her mind, their terror and suffering rushing over her in waves, to crash violently against her perceptive mind. She cringed inwardly from the strength of their fear and pain, as she slowly raised her head to look at the scene before her, her eyes dreading to find what her heart feared.

A thick white mist clung softly to the silhouette of the lone architecture in the harsh wasteland. Its round white towers, pillars and high walls, tinged a soft glowing blue, rose high into the black sky, rivaling the distant stars in beauty. The lunar city appeared intact, not a sound traveling on the cold north wind that swept her long silver waves off her back. Her eyes wide with disbelief, she hesitantly rose to her feet, her blood pounding in her ears. She stood with her hands clenched tightly at her sides as she observed the scene before her. The screams of pain and terror that traumatized her had faded, leaving only a heavy silence, making her doubt that they had ever existed in the first place. Lifting her long, tattered skirts in one hand, she slowly approached the high stone gates guarding the entrance to the city. She passed through the entranceway unhindered, not a sign of the presence of the guards. Despite the quiet and order that met her within the stone walls, the sensation of terror and intense suffering lingered, heavy and stifling. She wandered the deserted streets, searching for someone, anyone to prove that she wasn't alone. She peeked into an open door, to find fresh dishes set out on a table in expectation for a meal. She called out expectantly, but only silence met her pleas. _I can still sense their recent presence...their laughter and happiness...and then...nothing. A void... as if they simply faded out of existence. _The feeling of dread rose within her, squeezing her frightened heart tightly, her mouth dry with her fear. She continued to wander the empty streets, knowing in her heart the pointlessness of it, nothing meeting her but silence and empty buildings, seemingly abandoned in a moment's notice. The feelings of fear and dread strengthened, threatening to bubble over and break to the surface, in a never-ending scream. _Everything has the stench of death... Death surrounds me...it fills my body, invades my mind. _She thought giddily, raising her fingertips to her temple to ease her sudden light-headedness. Her mind suddenly snapped in a silent scream. She broke into a run, faster and faster as the terror filled her very being.

The tall white doors of the palace were ajar, and she slipped between them, her bare feet pounding on the marble floors as she ran down the endless hall. The doors and passageways on either side blurred together seamlessly as she ran past, her breath coming in ragged gasps, a hysterical fear overwhelming her. She finally reached the room at the end of the hall, bursting through the doorway, the doors crashing open against the walls. She stared, her mouth agape, and her silver-blue eyes impossibly large in her white face, as the fresh, metallic scent of blood assailed her senses. She quickly bent over to retch and vomit violently. The bitter taste filling her mouth, she slowly raised her eyes, not wanting to look at the horrific sight before her, but some strange perversion to _see _taking her prisoner, forcing her to look. _So much blood..._ She felt her heart being torn in two, leaving her raw and vulnerable. She opened her mouth to scream, her vision bleeding red, as she squeezed her eyes shut to escape the sight, but the image remained, burned into her mind. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing her sorrow and loss, dragging her fingernails down her bleeding face. Her shattered soul echoed its devastation, as her screams ripped themselves violently from her throat, filling her mind with its sound, until it was all she knew.

The sleeping form lying in the bed whimpered, her brow furrowed, as she tossed and turned fitfully, her subconscious mind reliving the horrors of the past. She eventually stilled, slipping once more into troubled dreams.

Darkness surrounded her, encompassing her very being, filling her with its heavy weight. She lay suspended in shadow, perfectly content to stay as she was for all of eternity. Soft whispers pierced the silence, rising in volume and intensity. They whispered words of power to her, trying to awaken her dormant memories, as she struggled vainly against them. She covered her ears, shouting, pleading with the voices. _No! Let me stay! Don't make me go back! Please..._ She sobbed hopelessly, as she felt a sensation of soaring high in the air, the pace quickening as the whispering faded behind, leaving her with unfamiliar voices; different in sound, tone and pitch. She strained her fuzzy mind to think, to focus on the one soft voice that calmed her ravaged spirit, but as soon as she focused on it, it faded into the background, the other voices overriding it. As she struggled to find that voice again in the mess of sound, she sensed a power pulsing deep within her. As she focused on the feeling, it intensified, the darkness retreating before the brilliant, white light. She reached towards it, her fingertips touching it, a feeling of warmth, and an indescribable feeling like coming home, washing over her. _She awakens, _whispered the voices of power. She yelped in surprise, yanking her arm back as a vision came to her. An old man, dressed in grey robes and with a long grey beard reached for the light, his blue eyes wide as he fell, swallowed up by the darkness. She screamed, holding her head in her hands as images flashed through her mind.

A man, imbedded with many arrows, fighting valiantly, his bravery and good heart shining through, giving him the proud stature of a king even as he died, protecting his friends and trying to redeem himself. She cried out as she sensed the potent evil surrounding him. She felt the corruption of their dark souls, and their conflicting feelings of hate and fear for their master. But hidden deep beneath the darkness, she sensed the tiniest of sparks. A light of hope, or something within them crying out. She reached towards it, wanting to comfort them, wanting to help. The scene faded, as blood-red fire surrounded her, burning without heat, a strong wind blowing her hair back with its force. A black reptilian pupil winked into existence as she gazed into the fire, a Great Eye scrutinizing her, probing deep and itching at the edges of her mind, ripping her open. She screamed as blackness bled into her sight, sending her into a welcome oblivion.

She sat bolt upright, her body drenched in a cold sweat, the terror still filling her, horrors of the night completely forgotten, but still lingering in her confused mind. She slipped out of the hot bed, wet with her sweat, and tiptoed to the door leading to the open balcony. The sweat on her fair skin evaporated quickly in the unusually cool night, leaving her shivering pitifully in the darkness under the moonless sky. She opened the door to the room next to hers soundlessly, closing it behind her as she slipped inside, leaving her in shadows.

"Ithil?" His voice whispered in the night, the sound of it soothing her.

She rushed to him, leaping onto the bed and crushing him with her sudden weight. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing her shivering form close. He raised his hand to stroke her silver tresses gleaming in the dark as she closed her eyes thankfully, a single tear sliding down her fair cheek. She pressed herself against him, not being able to get close enough to him. As he continued stroking the hair on top of her head, she reluctantly relaxed in his protective embrace, and fell into a cautious sleep. He leaned down to press his lips softly against her brow, breathing in her subtle fragrance of jasmine and vanilla. He sighed, looking down at her peaceful expression as she slept, his guilt heavy upon his heart. _Oh, Ithil...How do I tell you that I am leaving? How could you possibly understand? It will surely break your heart...as it will break my own... _He tightened his hold on her, realizing that he could not do anything to stop or prevent her pain. All he could do was to ensure her happiness during their last day together, and trust in Lord Elrond's promise to watch over her safety and well-being in his absence.

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him, no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will," Elrond told the group of nine standing before him, waiting at the grey stone gateway of Rivendell.

Ithil studied all the new people around her with excitement, reveling in the bright colours of the ladies' dresses and the unfamiliar faces. As she looked upon the tall man standing next to Legolas, his auburn hair bright and soft-looking in the sun, his grey eyes proud, a flash of sight brightened her mind for an instant. She inwardly recoiled at the sensation, her gaze faltering for a moment. Shaking her head slightly to rid herself of the shadow on her mind, she studied the four small people cloaked for journey with rapt fascination. She delighted in their long curls and bright eyes, their pointed ears like Legolas', their short stature, and the pure surprise of their large, hairy feet, unbound, without boots or shoes! She grinned, eyes twinkling with delight, her unquenchable curiousity brimming over. She let her eyes rest for a moment on the sweet brown pony with white markings, desiring to whisper secrets in his ear, and stroke his soft, velvety nose. She then looked upon the tall man with dark hair and kind blue eyes briefly with interest, taking note of his dark, plain travel-clothes, before her gaze slid to the man standing next to him. A shock jolted her system as she took in his grey felt pointed hat, blue eyes that shone from beneath its brim, long beard and hair of grey, long grey robes, and a wood staff in his hand. A presentiment of sorrow and fear passed over her, leaving her small hands shaking at the intensity of the feelings, her silver-blue eyes wide. Gandalf returned her gaze evenly, studying the mysterious woman, sensing a strange aura and power about her, his interest in her piqued. As quick as it had come, the strange sensation was gone without a trace. Recovering from the unexpected feelings that she had felt so strongly with every fiber of her being, she looked upon the dwarf. Her full, pink lips broke into a dazzling smile, her silver-blue eyes sparkling with delight, as she looked upon his helmet wrought with elegant ivy-like designs and patterns, his formidable-looking axe, his long, brown plaited beard, and his serious and proud attitude. Gimli glanced from Lord Elrond as he was speaking to find an enchanting lady of endless silver tresses, a fair face, sparkling silver-blue eyes and a bewitching smile, looking upon him. His lips twitched to smile, his brown eyes reflecting his feelings of amusement and mirth threatening to take over his serious persona. He looked away from the intriguing lady quickly, before he could break out into a loud, spontaneous guffaw.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose," Elrond told them. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all the Free Folk go with you."

"The Fellowship awaits the Ring-bearer," Gandalf said to Frodo.

Frodo's vivid blue eyes raised from Lord Elrond's to gaze one last time upon Rivendell, the beauty and peace of the land leaving its impression on his heart, to remember in times of great darkness and strife. He turned, walking towards the tall stone entranceway, his companions filing singularly into a line to follow behind.

Ithil became alarmed as Legolas took one long look upon her, filled with longing and regret, before he turned to follow the departing group. She watched him walk away, her feet frozen painfully to the ground, panic surging in her veins.

"Legolas!" She cried out, running to him.

He spun around in surprise at the sound of her light, musical voice that lingered in his mind long after she had spoken. He stared at her in shock, astonished that she spoken his name.

"Ithil..." he whispered in wonder.

She ran into his arms, wrapping her slim arms around his waist and pressing herself tightly against him. She looked into his grey-blue eyes pleadingly, tears brimming over in her eyes and threatening to spill over. The expression in her eyes, speaking of her fear of abandonment, tore at his heart painfully. He was overwhelmed momentarily by the feelings of sorrow and guilt washing over him.

He gently pushed her from him, his strong arms resting on her shoulders as he looked into her heartbroken eyes seriously, willing her to understand.

"Ithil…you mustn't come with me. The journey is long and perilous, not fit for a lady. I could not bear to see you come to harm." He swallowed with difficulty at that troubling thought. "You must stay here in Imladris. Lord Elrond will watch over you for me. He is an honorable man, with a daughter of his own. If I live, I will return to you, this I swear Ithil."

He bent down to kiss her tenderly on her lips, wet and salty from her tears, cupping her face gently in his palm, his other arm encircling her waist, pulling her close to him. He reluctantly pulled away from her, leaving her standing with her eyes still closed and her lips ready for his embrace. He turned away from her to walk away, unable to look in her eyes again and see her heartbroken look, his deep sorrow tearing him in two.

She opened her darkened silver-blue eyes to sadly watch him leave, understanding at least that he wished her to stay here, though that meant she would not be at his side.

A tall man with dark hair with penetrating grey eyes, radiating his strength and a pure heart, also lingered, looking upon an elven lady in purple, her demeanor sorrowful.

Sensing her sorrow and depression at being parted with her lover, Ithil turned to gaze upon the elven lady in sympathy and understanding.

The elven lady wore a fine lilac-coloured dress of silk and velvet, with long sleeves and a high collar turned down. She stood with her hands clasped tightly together in front of her, her head bowed modestly. Her fair ivory face glowed golden in the sunlight and her high cheekbones were flushed with a rosy colour. Her large sky blue eyes shimmered with the tears that they held, and her full, large red lips quivered slightly with the strength of her emotions. Her long, dark chestnut hair was swept off her smooth, high brow, revealing her delicately-pointed ears. She wore a fine mithril circlet upon her brow, encrusted with small, white crystals that sparkled and captured the sunbeams.

Ithil strode silently to the elven lady's side and gently took her hand from its tense clasp, to hold in her own small hand, squeezing it reassuringly. The elven lady turned to look to the kind lady comforting her, her lips curling upwards slightly in an attempt at a smile. Ithil returned her shaky smile with her own bright, loving expression, easing the elven lady's bitter pain. They looked from each other to watch their men leaving them behind, their hearts slowly breaking with each step, fearing that they may not return, their hearts crying out the names of their loves silently.


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership for Sailor Moon or Lord of the Rings

CHAPTER SIX

A crisp winter breeze blew among the bare branches of the great elm Elrond was standing beneath, his sight trained on two forms seated at a wood carven table on the terrace, huddled in their thick grey cloaks against the cold. Their fair voices and laughter carried on the brisk wind to his ears, as he watched them in their lessons. The two women were bent over a manuscript, studying and remarking on its contents. The smaller of the two, Ithil, had fair white skin that glowed with an inner light. Her small frame was almost lost in the large winter cloak, despite the hints of her lithe curves that showed through. Her blue eyes flecked with hints of silver flashed merrily as she laughed, and long tendrils of silver hair slipped from her hood to caress her smooth cheeks. The second figure, Arwen, leant forward towards Ithil, pointing out a fact of interest with her index finger. Her cloak brushed against her full curves on her tall, slim frame. Her ivory-hued cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her vibrant blue eyes sparkled as she regarded her companion. Arwen's dark chestnut tresses were swept to one side of her neck, the long waves slipping out of the opening of the hood. Both women were matched evenly in beauty and character, although it was like comparing the brilliance of the sun to the luminescence of the moon. Elrond continued to observe the pair fondly, enjoying the sight of the two women together; his daughter Arwen, and the lady Ithil, who in only a month's time had secured a place in his heart as his second daughter.

It had been over a moon since the Fellowship had departed on their mission to Mordor. As Elrond had predicted, the time spent in Imladris had softened the deep sorrow in Ithil's eyes, the peace and beauty of the land healing her mind and heart. The lingering touches and searching gazes between her and Legolas had not gone unnoticed by the elf lord; the deep affection between the two was obvious enough for anyone to see. He had become worried when after the Fellowship's departure, Ithil had become despondent and eaten little. His daughter, Arwen, had also become depressed at the separation from her lover. Arwen needed a distraction from her sorrow and worry, so he charged her with the responsibility of Ithil's tutelage – Sindarin, the Common Speech, the history of Middle Earth, customs of Elves and Men, horseback riding, reading, writing, and music as well. Ithil picked up all the subjects with ease, as if she simply needed to be reminded. Elrond had hoped that with teaching Ithil their language, she would reveal her past and her origins; but to no avail, she was as clueless as they, having no memory of her past life.

As the bond between the two women strengthened, they learned to rely and care for each other as sisters and friends, the companionship lessoning the strain on their hearts. Arwen put all her concentration to the task of tutoring Ithil, so that she may focus on something besides the yearning for her love. Elrond was greatly saddened by the knowledge of his daughter's love for his foster son, Aragorn. In his eyes, it could only end in sorrow – by either the breaking of his daughter's heart, or her giving up the immortal life to be doomed to grow old and die with Aragorn. The thought of losing his only daughter to a man, and her living a mortal life brought back painful memories of the past. As the familiar feelings of sorrow and regret washed over him, he closed his eyes in remembrance, looking forward to the day when he would join his wife on the shores of the Undying Lands. Elrond was torn from his troubled thoughts by the frantic cries of his daughter.

"Ithil! Ithil, answer me!" Arwen cried out in Elvish, shaking her friend's shoulders gently. "Ithil!"

Elrond rushed to her side, taking Ithil from Arwen, placing his hands gently on her shoulders and looking into her face. She stared blankly at him, looking _through _him as if watching something only she could see. Her normally blue eyes flecked with silver, were a strange uniform silver colour, and were fixed, staring forward, watching the visions playing in her mind's eye. He unconsciously tightened his hold on her shoulders as he spoke, willing her to snap out of her trance and answer him, to smile and laugh again; for everything to be alright.

"Ithil! Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na nglad!²"

Still she stared blindly before her, her gaze not wavering for a moment at his words, completely unresponsive to either touch or sound. Elrond felt the panic rise, his chest clenching tight with fear. _The incantation did not work! What strange ailment paralyzes the mind and body without warning! _

Ithil unexpectedly shuddered in his arms, her silver eyes opening wide, appearing large in her pale face which was strangely without expression of emotion or thought. Elrond and Arwen shivered involuntarily as they were hit by an aura of immeasurable power and strength radiating from the small frame of Ithil. Their heart froze in their chests, and their mouths were dry with dread, as Ithil opened her small pink mouth and calmly spoke in a voice that sounded strangely detached from her body, the tone of the words flat and emotionlessness.

"Mithrandir i dant nedh dúath. Mad an dúath a naur nedh i tofn.³"

At her words, their hearts simultaneously leaped into their throats, their eyes wide with shock. They chanced a sidelong glance at each other, both pondering anew the mystery of her. Their gaze flashed back to her when she cried out violently in fear, silver eyes rolling up in her head to reveal the whites of her eyes, her head falling to rest its chin on her chest and her body slumping forward, unconscious, into Elrond as he caught her with his arms. Elrond finally raised his stunned gaze from the silver tresses of the head resting on his chest, to look at Arwen meaningfully, the same thought racing through their minds.

_What secrets of her past does Ithil hide? Who...what is Ithil!_

Elvish Translations:

² Ithil! Hear my voice, come back to the light!

³ The Grey Pilgrim falls into darkness. Consumed by shadow and flame in the deep.


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Author's Note: I'm a horrible, cruel, neglectful person, I know. To be honest, I was completely lost & had no idea what I was going to do with this story next. But I guess reading a bunch of LotR fanfiction & starting a new fanfic (Snow White: Witch of the Woods) gave my inspiration for this story a new burst of energy. Unfortunately, I lost all my notes (From over 7 years ago? Has it truly been THAT long?), so I had to start from scratch. I managed to remember some of what I lost… plus some new ideas after studying the SM manga. ^_^ I've basically got the whole story completed in my brain right now, just need to type it out. My goal is to write one chapter a week. I would love to publish something one day, so I figure fanfics are a good way to practice & get feedback without putting too much of my heart & soul into it before I'm ready. So please give me some CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM… Also, can everyone let me know whether they've just seen the movies? Or whether they've read the books too? I'd like to know, because I'm following the events in the book more so than the movies (so much more detail)… so if you haven't read the books, I'd like to know if any of this is new to you. Thanks & much love. 3

Disclaimer: Why do we even need to put these? It's pretty obvious that we don't own anything.. otherwise we wouldn't be on , now would we?

The drum beats rolled in the deep, echoing in the vast chambers of the dwarves' abandoned kingdom. _Doom, doom_ sounded the rumbling notes of warning, the sounds amplifying as the host of orcs and goblins drew closer. Although it was likely that his arrow would not reach them, Legolas loaded his bow in an effort to remind the repulsive creatures to stay out of range. Before he was able to release his arrow, Legolas lost his nerve, and the slim shaft slipped from his shaking hand to fall uselessly to the stone at his feet. An involuntary cry issued from his throat, before the growing horror silenced him. The darkness seemed to gather and be drawn towards one area behind the army; the formless shadows seeming to pulse with malevolence. As Legolas stared into the gloom, his eyes straining to give shape to what he felt certain watched him in return, the orcs shuffled and the goblins leaped out of the way to make room for what was coming. Even as his instinct whispered the truth, his heart squeezed tight, and his lungs burned with lack of breath. The dark fog advanced to the edge of the great fissure where gold and orange flames licked the air with their heat. As adrenaline flushed through his system, Legolas' hands began to tremble, the muscles of his lean legs tensing, readying to make flight.

The great being extended its thick black limb into the circle of firelight. Its foot had toes and sharp iron claws like a wolf, though much larger than any wolf may grow. Suddenly, it leaped clear over the fissure, though the flames reached high to greedily feed on its dark energy. Setting the demon's long mane to flame, the light flickered around its horrible face; eyes that burned with a dark fire, long ears drawn out to points, the flat nose of a bull, and a mouth so wide that it seemed to split the creature's face in two. Its long jaw dropped down as it panted, many rows of glistening teeth creating a macabre and hungry smile. As its thick body straightened to full height, the demon cracked the whip held in its left land, the sound causing the drum beats to falter into an ominous silence. It then raised its right hand, brandishing its great sword twisted into the shape of a flame in challenge. It eyes seemed to flash with a dark love of bloodshed and war.

The heavy weight in Legolas' stomach seemed to anchor him to the stone beneath his feet, the coldness and stillness spreading out from that dense centre frozen in horror. His terror made his mind dumb and slow, while his heart broke at the hateful sight of the elf-bane. All that was beautiful and good in the world seemed to die in his heart and be stripped away, exposing the deep and treacherous undercurrent waiting to claim him in his despair. An involuntary cry burst from his lips, "Ai! Ai! A Balrog! A Balrog is come!*"

A soft white glow began to grow in strength out of the corner of his eye, and with difficulty he tore his gaze away from the waiting demon of the deep. At the centre of the gradually brightening aura shone a star, emanating a warm light that reached out tendrils of warmth in comfort. His disbelieving eyes stared as the lines of a feminine form became apparent, at first translucent, and then quickly gaining solid form. The hopeless cry of Gimli registered in a corner of his mind, as the figure slowly raised her cloaked head to meet his gaze with silver-blue eyes. Legolas' throat made an odd choking sound, and he rushed forward to pull her to him. She pressed one dry kiss to his throat, and spoke his name in reassurance. Legolas hesitantly released her as she pushed her small palms against his chest. She turned her head to make a quick assessment of the Fellowship and the great and dark army that stood against them, her eyes narrowing in resolve. _Now is the time to stop running, _she told herself. _I will stand and fight. _

"A Balrog," Gandalf said under his breath. "Now I understand." Dread filled the Istari's heart as he faced his greatest test to come. "What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.*"

"Then allow me to ease your burden," Ithil spoke up in a clear voice. "You shall not face this foe alone."

Gandalf turned in surprise at the sound of her voice, to watch the newcomer walk softly to stand at his side. Though she seemed much too small and fragile to match the power of their enemies, her face shining with hope and light buoyed up Gandalf's faltering heart. A barely noticeable smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as her small white hand took hold of his large and weathered one. "Cast away your fear and do not allow your heart to hesitate in its great purpose. Do you feel the star of your soul? Let it shine bright against the dark and evil forces," she whispered to him, her eyes shining. Turning to look over her shoulder, she raised her voice to address the rest of the Fellowship: "Have faith in each other! When we stand together, there is nothing that can defeat us!"

The Balrog gazed upon the moon maiden, measuring her will and strength. Sneering, the beast hesitated no longer. It pushed off with its muscular legs, and broke into a long and heavy stride that swept the great host of orcs and goblins aside. The swift and sure action of the demon broke the spell of the decisive moment. A great cry rose up, as they ran in the footsteps of the demon, flowing as one great black river. Legolas ran to Ithil's side to take her other hand and draw her away, but she stood firm. "Stand with us," she told him. "And lend us your strength." Any protestation that he would have spoken to her was drowned out by the proud call of the horn of Gondor. It rang merrily in defiance, the full notes swelling in a crescendo, stopping the dark hoard in their tracks. As the last brave echoes dwindled, they again began their advance. Lowering the great horn, Boromir stepped forward, and Aragorn joined him to stand as sentinels behind the three. Gimli hurriedly swiped up the axe he had let fall to the ground, and ran with short legs to join them. "Let none say that I have shamed the name of Durin!" he shouted. The four halfings were riveted to where they stood, steps away from the doorway leading out of the great hall, their eyes wide and staring. Frodo grasped the gold ring on its chain tightly in his fist.

The Balrog reached the narrow bridge carved from the roots of the mountain, and stepped out cautiously onto the catwalk. Gandalf released Ithil's hand and drew his sword Glamdring, white metal singing. Ithil's eyes were drawn to the sword ablaze with a cold white light. _A weapon of light… _she mused silently. _I would that I had a sword to meet the might of this demon. _In response to Gandalf's drawing of Glamdring, the ancient demon spread the darkness cloaked about it, making itself appear even more formidable and terrible. It raised its many-tonged whip and snorted, flames and soot shooting from its large nostrils. Its hot breath passed over the seven small beings that stood their ground a mere 5 yards from its feet. Daring to take a step towards the Balrog, Gandalf told it, "You cannot pass.*" The orcs stood waiting, hushed in expectation of the outcome of this confrontation.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow!*" Gandalf's voice rang out confidently, imbued with a hidden power. "You cannot pass.*"

Ithil's heart silently entreated the demon from the underworld to return to the deep caverns from whence it came. The Balrog stared down Gandalf, assessing him and turning the words of challenge over in its mind. The flames at its head and back seemed to fade and smolder unseen. In answer to the grey wizard's bold confrontation, the ancient beast lifted its great wings tipped with curved claws from its heavily muscled back, and spread them to fill the space of the underground cavern wall to wall. It stepped forward as it brought its red flaming sword to bear upon Glamdring, the two weapons meeting with white sparks and a great clash. Ithil flinched as the demon's sword splintered into many pieces, her heart cheering on Gandalf.

She quickly drew in a breath of air in a soft gasp, when her eyes darkened to the scene before her and instead turned inwards. _The demon of the old world fell, but so too did the Istari cloaked in grey. _And she knew with a heaviness in her bones and sorrow in her heart that if he fell, it would mean his death. Her eyes focused on the form of Gandalf stumbling as she cleared the fog of her mind with an effort. He quickly regained his footing, and repeated with authority, "You cannot pass!" Hissing with malice, the Balrog leapt forward to tower many feet above the bent old figure and his companions. Fear began to grasp Ithil's heart, but she quickly dismissed it, knowing that if she lost the serenity of her mind, then all would be lost. She quickly bent down to one knee on the cold stone, and pressed her smooth palm against the ageless rock. Grasping the Legendary Silver Crystal in her other hand, she closed her eyes.

She could sense the life in the rock beneath her hand and hear the music of its deep ponderous voice. It seemed to her that it ceased the song that had begun at the beginning of the world, to regard her in silence. The Legendary Silver Crystal hummed and sent warmth through her body to seep into the roots of the mountain. Knowing that the spirit of the mountain waited for her to speak, she formed wordless-thoughts of entreaty, struggling to make her will known. Inspiration sparked in her heart, and she sent an image; a request for a great sword forged of ancient stone, of the foundations of the earth. A sword that would become unbreakable once merged with her crystal. She wrapped this image with all of her desire, faith, and love.

Opening her silver eyes, she ripped off the chain from around her neck, and pressed the Silver Crystal to the rock. Bending all of her mind upon it, she willed the crystal to sink into the rock, to melt into it and merge. As the crystal slowly was pressed into the stone, Ithil allowed all strength except for a small reserve of power to leach out of her. Removing her hand, she saw that the crystal had disappeared, and the stone at her knees radiated a soft glow like moonlight. Her gaze hardening, she slammed the heel of her hand into the stone, sharp pains shooting up the length of her arm. All heard the sharp crack of the stone being sundered, and stopped to stare. The Balrog halted in its attack to regard her with a predatory interest. Splinters and dust of stone fell away to reveal a grey sword with a silver luminescence in the dark. The 36-inch long blade was narrow and double-edged with a raised central ridge, which flattened into a diamond cross-section creating a sharp point at the tip. Three-quarters of the way down the length of the blade was a housing for the crystal. Where the blade met the curved cross-guard, a crescent moon pointed its horns towards the pointed end. On the other end of the cross-guard, a second crescent moon in mirror image served as a protection to the wielder's hand.

Gimli's mouth dropped open in dumb astonishment as Ithil reached to grasp the handle of the sword. At her touch, yellow gold covered the hilt and crystal casing as if they were dipped in molten metal. As she stood, holding the Holy Blade before her with both hands, Legolas stared at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Aragorn gazed upon her knowingly as the façade of a fragile lady fell away, and in her place seemed to stand a great queen radiating purity of purpose. Gandalf leaned heavily upon his staff, his bushy eyebrows raised high on his forehead. All seemed to wait for her to make her move, and no one drew breath. The spell was broken as she stepped forward in challenge. Immediately, the Balrog responded by cracking his whip and bringing it down upon her. Ithil threw up her sword, and the crystal flashed in response to her strong will. A great flash and thunder like lightning splitting the heavens blinded all. When the Fellowship was able to open their eyes again, spots dancing in their vision, they saw that Ithil had stabbed her sword upwards into the Balrog's inner thigh. The giant being of fire and shadow's jaw dropped open in a silent scream, and its eyes flashed wide open. The crystal imbedded in its flesh purified its evil spirit, and the Balrog collapsed into a pile of grey moondust. Ithil, having used the last shreds of her energy in the spiritual cleansing, dropped as though the strings holding her up had been cut. Legolas caught her before she could topple off the bridge into emptiness, and lifted her into his arms, holding her against his chest. Gimli picked up the Holy Blade that she had dropped with shaking hands that he felt too unclean to touch such a talisman. Gandalf broke the mood with harsh words: "Fly, you fools!*"

Recalling himself, Aragorn sprinted to the hobbits to pass through the doorway first and lead all out of Moria. "Come! I will lead you now! Follow me!*" he cried, as the hobbits stumbled after him. Gimli held the Holy Blade before him with both hands as he pushed his body to run as fast as he could. Legolas followed after him, with Ithil held tightly in his arms, her head lolling back to expose her white throat. And then Boromir. Gandalf turned to follow, and then stopped upon hearing the drums start up again._ Doom, doom. _He sheathed Glamdring, spun around to hold his staff high with both hands, and then thrust it into the stone at his feet. A hair-thin crack appeared inches from his toes, and then widened as the ground on the other side began to drop away. Many orcs had advanced onto the bridge in haste, and now realized their error too late. They tried to push those behind them, as those further back were not yet aware of the danger and pushed forward against them. Dozens of them fell screaming as the bridge fell out from under them. Satisfied that he had secured his group's escape, Gandalf turned to make his leave. He staggered as he was hit, the cruel black arrowhead exploding out the flesh joining his neck and shoulder. As the blood flowed down his chest, leaving a deep red trail, he gasped and held onto his staff with both hands.

Boromir, glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Gandalf drawing breath sharply, and realized his predicament. Striding back to the grey wizard's side, Boromir lifted Gandalf's right arm and placed it over his shoulders, supporting the ailing Istari's weight. As arrows began to fall around them, Boromir ran to the doorway, Gandalf struggling to keep up, his feet sometimes dragging. They toiled up the stairs, praying that the broken bridge would gain them enough time to make their escape. They entered into a wide passageway echoing with the sounds of their struggles, the drum beats sounding behind them. Sunlight entered the underground cavern in shafts spilling in through thin slits cut into the stone high above their heads. As the light grew, so did the haste of their falling footsteps. The hall they entered next was filled with light streaming in from glass reaching from the ceiling almost to the floor. They passed between two tall doors torn from their hinges, and then they spied the Great Gates, blinding golden light shining from the arched passageway. They ran past a slain orc-captain lying in a pool of his own black blood, and into the fresh air. However, they still were in the shadow of the mountain and within bow-range, so they continued on without stopping.

Reaching where the rest of the Company waited, catching their breath, some standing, others sitting upon the long green grass, the afternoon sun high above their heads. Boromir slowly lowered Gandalf to a flat rock rising up out of the grasses, and lowered himself down to sit back on his haunches.

"Much thanks for your assistance, Boromir," Gandalf said, wincing as Boromir grasped the shaft of the arrow in both hands and snapped it in two. Boromir slowly pulled both ends of the arrow out of Gandalf's bloody flesh, trying to be as gentle as possible. "Although I fear that the arrow-tip was poisoned, as the wound burns like fire."

Gazing upon the pair, Aragorn lamented, "Alas! I fear we cannot stay here longer. The Sun sinks early. The Orcs will not, maybe, come out till after dusk, but we must be far away before nightfall. The Moon is almost spent, and it will be dark tonight.*" Turning to where Legolas sat upon the grass cross-legged, Ithil pulled to rest in his lap, Aragorn said, "And how does the Lady fare?"

Legolas gently stroked the back of his hand against her cheek, bent over her, gazing at her slack face with an intense look. "She is spent. Ithil has done a great deed in slaying that Balrog," he murmured.

Upon hearing her name, Ithil began to stir, her long curved lashes fluttering against her high cheekbones kissed with a rosy flush. Opening her eyes, she smiled weakly at seeing Legolas, and then slowly raised herself up to sit in his lap. Upon seeing her wake, Gimli rushed forward to lower himself to one knee, his head bent down in humility, offering her sword up on his flat palms. Smiling, she gently placed her hand upon his bare head. "Rise, Master Dwarf," Ithil intoned with a hint of amusement. "I need no such displays of reverence."

Lifting his head, Gimli blurted out, "My Lady! How is it that you forged a sword from rock with your bare hands!"

A troubled expression passed darkly over her face so quickly that Gimli doubted what he saw. "I know not," she spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "My heart guided me, and I am not so sure that it was I and not the crystal or the spirit of the mountain who aided me," she concluded as she carefully took the stone and gold sword from him.

Sensing her agitation, Legolas interrupted, "Do not think of it, my love, if it troubles you."

"We have more pressing issues to be troubled of," Aragorn reminded the group. "Come! We have a long road, and much to do.*"

*signifies that it is a quote taken from the book or movie. All else not marked with the star is written by me.

If you would like to see what Ithil's Holy Sword looks like, check out this link: morelikethis/323061355?view_mode=2#/d5czmfz

It is mentioned several times in the SM manga, though its origins are never fully explained.


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